


Position of Command

by devera



Category: Saiyuki Gaiden
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-13
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:06:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devera/pseuds/devera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tenpou is so totally married. Fortunately, it’s a state not as intolerable as reports seem to indicate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Position of Command

**Author's Note:**

> [This picture](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/devikun/4926952/120552/120552_original.jpg), at the time I first saw it, gave me dirty ideas. I think it was that hint at the edge of the frame of Tenpou standing staring down at him. I guess they could have been having a friendly talk, but in my head it was _really_ friendly and there wasn't a lot of talk going on. Therefore, no plot ahead. I make no apologies. 
> 
> Also, only vaguely related, I never noticed (well, I’ve never had cause to look before) but wiki’s list of common military tactical terminology reads a little like porn as well. Particularly Offensive Tactics like _Trench Raiding_ , _Peaceful Penetration_ , and _Rapid Dominance_. Heh heh heh.

“Since when,” Tenpou remarked, standing in the middle of a yet again alarmingly tidy aparment and staring at his far too smug Second in Command, “have I had a three seat couch? And what is _that_?”

“That?” Kenren asked, glancing behind him for a moment. “That’s my record collection,” he explained, in a tone that clearly indicated Tenpou's having to actually ask was cause for minor concern regarding his intellect, and for a moment Tenpou honestly wasn't sure he could keep up. He felt worn, frayed. The strategic summit had been a week-long exercise in futility and bureaucratic politicking. If it hadn't been for the Dragons, who for all their celestial aspects were possibly the most grounded beings Tenpou had ever had the pleasure of knowing, the entire conference would have been a complete and utter waste of time. As it was, he didn’t need Kenren to question his intelligence; it was already in doubt for having ever gone in the first place.

He shouldn’t have expected anything else, he supposed, but he’d unfortunately underestimated the short-sighted tenacity of some of Heaven’s career administrators. He'd also underestimated how much he'd been looking forward to getting back to his duties, although he hadn't quite expected this kind of reception – Kenren lounging about in off duty clothes, looking like he owned the place, and judging by how he'd rearranged everything again, he clearly did. 

“Of course it is,” Tenpou agreed, frowning as he tapped a cigarette out of his pack and lit it, and then took a drag on it like it held all the answers of the universe. If it did, it wasn't letting on what significance said vinyl collection had – possibly Kenren was moving in? Although considering the amount of time he spent here – both working and in Tenpou’s bed – he was probably just formalising what was already informal fact.

“And the couch?" he indicated. "I know I’ve been away, but it hasn’t been that long. I’m fairly sure I would have remembered it.”

Kenren eased his own cigarette out of his mouth and smirked at him. “It's new. Like it?”

Tenpou shrugged. “Looks comfortable enough,” he decided.

“Yeah," Kenren agreed, in the kind of tone that Tenpou had long ago learned meant he was having an entirely different conversation to the one Tenpou _thought_ they were having. "And it’s leather,” he added, quite unnecessarily since the quality of the upholstery was apparent even from where Tenpou stood. “Doesn’t stain.”

He leaned over and slowly and crushed his smoke out in the ashtray on the coffee table between them – yet another addition to the room Tenpou didn't recognise, and where was his frog, exactly? – before leaning back again. But it wasn't the comment or even that almost-smile on Kenren's face that finally clued Tenpou in. Kenren very rarely observed any kind of military formality and Tenpou was used to that, encouraged it even. So, the fact that he was still sitting while a superior officer was standing wasn't remarkable. What was remarkable was the way his posture, slumped in the comfort of the couch, arms thrown across the back of the chair, legs splayed with casual ease, somehow directed Tenpou's gaze to exactly where he seemed to want it – down. 

Kenren, Tenpou realised, finally getting with the apparent program with a slow blink of his eyes as he stared at Kenren's crotch, was being deliberately provocative. As usual, realising this did nothing to cushion its apparent effects.

“Is that so?” Tenpou finally observed, almost reluctant to draw his gaze back up to Kenren's smiling face now that he'd finally gotten the message. When it did, Kenren’s smile was sharp, perhaps because he was enjoying the struggle Tenpou was having with himself. Not, of course, that either of them were under the illusion that it was much of a fight. 

“Sure," he all but purred. "I’ve tested it. Repeatedly.”

Considering the not terribly subtle subtext going on, the thing most immediately at hand in response to that was to imagine what Kenren had been doing to come to such a scientific conclusion, and the image that supported this line of speculation was, of course, unreservedly filthy – Kenren, spread across the couch currently under discussion, naked, his eyes closed and his mouth open, slowly fisting his cock. Kenren moaning – and Tenpou knew intimately the timbre of those sounds he made – as his back arched and his limbs trembled and his hips jerked and his semen splashed across the leather, white against black.

Suddenly, Tenpou recalled the last time he’d seen Kenren before he’d left for the summit. He'd been replete, playful and warm, so incredibly, indelibly warm, like his heat could leave its imprint permanently on Tenpou's sheets, on his skin. _I’ll be thinking of you while you’re gone_ , he'd said teasingly, his fingertips stroking across Tenpou’s bare side with almost no pressure. Tenpou had snorted out a laugh at that – not because he was particularly ticklish, but just because the thought of Kenren pining for want of his company was more than idly amusing – and said suggestively, _Only thinking?_

Kenren had leaned over and lightly bitten his shoulder, and murmured, _Yeah_ , with a smile in his voice. _Repeatedly. I hear it makes you go blind, eventually, but I’m willing to risk it._

As he now recalled, that conversation and what had taken place directly following it (and had certainly been instigated by) had fashioned Tenpou with enough distraction to keep him entertained throughout the whole first day and a half of the summit. The sheer tediousness of the proceedings had eventually, by the end, exorcised almost all such pleasurable thought from his mind and all he'd wanted when he returned to his rooms finally was a cup of tea and perhaps a nice quiet lie down. If he hadn’t been feeling quite so mentally raw he would have done exactly that. As it stood, however, and following the fairly excruciating week he'd had, he found he had zero interest in denying Kenren whatever it was he so obviously seemed to want. 

Of course, it wouldn't do to appear too eager, either.

“I’m not sure I believe you,” he said slowly, thinking about that conversation as he fingered the edge of his coat idly and watched as Kenren tracked the innocuous movement with ill-disguised interest. “Perhaps I need to see these tests for myself?”

Kenren sucked in a quick breath at that, his eyes sliding up to Tenpou’s face. Tenpou smiled meaningfully back.

“Well, it’s possible I just wasn’t doing it right?” he mused after a moment, and Tenpou would have laughed except that Kenren was possibly the only person he knew who could get away with saying something like that without sounding utterly ridiculous while doing so. “You might have to... _instruct_ me.”

He said ‘instruct’ like it was something lewd and Tenpou felt his heart give an eager little kick in response.

“Then I believe you should start by standing up,” he decided after a moment. 

Kenren smiled slyly and then proceeded to follow the order with the same attitude he normally followed any order – casually, easily, as if it had been his idea all along, and with an economy of movement and the sort of look that bordered on insubordinate but that challenged anyone to call him on it. Tenpou had never much had cause to find himself subject to that look, since he’d never really been one for giving orders, but he’d seen Kenren direct it at others and its effect was more often than not inflaming. Strangely, despite the completely non-officious context, it had a similar level of impact now. Tenpou’s response wasn’t, however, to dress the General down; well, not figuratively, at any rate.

“Take off your shirt,” he said when Kenren was finally standing, and Kenren held his gaze and brought his hands up to start popping buttons. He wasn’t quick, but neither was he taking his time. Tenpou watched, not bothering to deny or hide his interest in the proceedings as each inch of skin was exposed, until the shirt was completely open and Kenren was shrugging out of it. Tenpou held out his hand as the fabric slipped down Kenren’s arms and the side of Kenren’s mouth quirked slightly as he handed the item over. It quirked even more when Tenpou scrunched the majority of it in his fist, brought it up to his face and buried his nose in it briefly to inhale Kenren’s scent, familiar and somehow comforting. The look in Kenren’s eyes then darkened from challenging to wanting, and Tenpou smiled and reluctantly dropped the shirt behind him on the floor.

“Now the rest,” he said.

Kenren arched an eyebrow, but his hands were already on his belt buckle.

“You want to sniff at these too?” he asked, smirking, as he tugged the belt open and started on the fly of his jeans.

Tenpou watched him. “Did I tell you you could talk?” he returned mildly and Kenren huffed out a laugh in response. 

“Can I at least…?” He glanced down and then back at the couch. 

“Feel free,” Tenpou allowed, making the statement a challenge. Kenren grinned again and sat back down on the couch to lean down and start unlacing his boots. Tenpou enjoyed the play of his muscles across his shoulders as he did, thought about the feel of them under his teeth at the back of Kenren’s neck. Such a mundane task, and yet so much pleasure could be derived from watching it, like anything Kenren did. He was such a physical being, more so than perhaps any other god Tenpou had had the pleasure of knowing, his physicality merely an extension of his spirit, his self-expression. It was what made him both a valuable asset as well as a stimulating companion - his... sensuality, for want of a better term. Some might have called it carnality, but the negative connotations associated with such a word did Kenren no justice in ignoring the joy, the sheer omnivorous delight he took in living.

A delight he was most certainly exhibiting as he dragged off his boots, dumped them unceremoniously to one side and then braced his shoulders on the back of the couch, arched his spine, lifted his backside off the couch and started working his open jeans down. 

It was an obvious display, a direct response to Tenpou’s challenge of a moment ago. It was an admirable strategy in several senses, and Tenpou watched, not wanting to disappoint such efforts. Kenren’s musculature was sharp, lean, his external obliques cutting in an inviting line down over his hips, leading towards his groin. Tenpou knew that terrain, had tasted it, wanted to taste it again in that way that made Kenren’s breath hitch into a low, sensual laugh, wanted to bite at it so that the laugh tumbled into a groan. But Kenren had started this, and Tenpou saw no reason to change the rules now. He stood quietly, focusing on the sight, enjoying the way the fabric dragged over Kenren's hip bones, the gaping fly revealing the root of his cock cradled in a thick nest of black pubic hair until it was exposed completely, thick and firm, springing free and unashamedly firm as Kenren wiggled his jeans further down his long, strong legs until he could kick them off.

When he was done, he tossed the jeans in the direction of his boots, and went back to slouching in almost the same pose he had assumed while clothed. Only this time the only thing he wore was his jewellery. He made quite an attractive sight. Tenpou smiled again.

“Now, touch yourself,” he said.

Kenren did.

“What, here?” he asked with studied innocence and pressed one single fingertip to his opposite bicep. “Or maybe you mean here?” He moved to touch his chin, a completely random spot, and his eyes glittered mischievously. Tenpou wasn’t terribly surprised at this deliberate misinterpretation of command, merely amused.

“Use your right hand,” he corrected. “Wrap it around your cock.”

Kenren smirked at him and put his hand around himself. And waited. Tenpou stood and looked at him for a long, silent moment, and then he leaned down and pushed the coffee table out of his way, and stepped into the space it had occupied, right in front of Kenren between his splayed legs.

“Stroke,” he told him, and when he did, once, Tenpou added, “Again. Tighten your fist a little more. Keep going. Slower. Don't stop unless I tell you.”

Kenren followed his direction and Tenpou watched for a few moments, partly to ensure that Kenren was doing exactly as instructed, and partly because he couldn't bring himself to look away. Kenren's cock was quite lovely, slender, slightly curved, the head appearing in the circle of his fist as he stroked down, disappearing again as he dragged his fist back up and his thumb slid over the crown. Lovelier still was the way that after a few slow, hedonistic moments of this, of Tenpou standing there watching, Kenren's cool began to crack, just a little. His smile went a little slack, his eyes went dark and heavy lidded. His breathing started to speed up and his skin started to flush, and oh, oh best of all perhaps, his body began to truly and properly relax and his thighs spread wantonly, an invitation now rather than a challenge.

"That's good," Tenpou murmured throatily, not in any way unaffected by this display. "Very good. Are you wet enough? No? Stop what you're doing, lift your hand and wet it with your tongue."

Kenren took a breath and kept his eyes glued to Tenpou's as he slowly did as he was told. He slid his fingers into his mouth, laved the webbing with his tongue, licked a long slow strip from the heel of his thumb to the middle finger and then sucked it back in again. It was above and beyond the parameters of the order, a creative interpretation as it were, and his breathing was starting to quicken, deepen; Tenpou’s might have been too if he’d been willing to let it at this point. But to allow that much control to slip would be to let it all go and he was enjoying this, _watching_ , far too much for the moment.

“That’s enough,” he husked. Kenren pulled his fingers from his mouth in a long, slick slide, smiling wickedly as he did, and put his hand back on himself without guidance. This time, when he stroked, his grip so much easier, his arousal fully formed, moisture beading at the tip, he held nothing back. He made a _show_ of it for Tenpou, his mouth open and his eyes hooded, his body arching and his hips slowly thrusting, want pouring off him like light off the sun, and Tenpou was quickly and seriously rethinking that whole question of control.

“Stop. Get up,” he told him in clipped tones, ignoring the fleeting look of surprise in Kenren’s eyes as he drawled, “Yes Sir,” and unfolded himself with ridiculous grace until he was standing, staring at Tenpou expectantly.

“Turn around and brace your hands on the back of the couch,” Tenpou continued, and rather than smirk or say something pithy like _Now you’re talking_ , Kenren merely, wordlessly, did as told. Tenpou stepped forward, pushing Kenren into the desired position until one knee was propped on the seat cushions and his back was a long straight line from the angle of his hips to his shoulders.

“I want to watch you prepare yourself,” Tenpou murmured, and through the palm pressed flat against the small of Kenren’s back, he felt him shiver.

“Fuck,” came the breathless oath, and then Kenren’s hand was reaching back, wet fingers probing himself, pushing in, twisting, sliding. His body trembled faintly under Tenpou’s lingering touch, his breath coming harsh against his forearm where his face was pressed against it and the couch for support as he began first with two, and then quickly with three fingers and Tenpou stood and watched, mesmerised by this incredibly intimate act Kenren was allowing him. It was perhaps more intimate even than if the fingers penetrating him had been Tenpou’s and he was amazed all over again by Kenren’s infinite generosity. He never sought to protect himself from Tenpou, never seemed conscious of the risks he ran, how vulnerable he made himself. No other god Tenpou had known, did know, would have been half as willing to not only submit himself to Tenpou’s demands but offer himself, this or any other way, but Kenren gave that and more, as if it was nothing. He gave in ways more meaningful than the merely mortal, the physically mundane, and Tenpou only in this moment realised exactly how deeply connected they had become.

“You’re astonishing,” he heard himself say wonderingly, unable to stop watching, to stop touching. He ached in a way that almost felt divorced from himself, as if his physical wants were just a shadow, an obscured reflection of something far more vast and encompassing which wouldn’t dissipate with release. 

But Kenren, ever practical, ever grounded, was focused on more immediate concerns.

“Lube,” he gasped, shuddering again. “Gods, if you don’t- don’t mind, _Sir_. I’d really – fuck – really like you to fuck me.”

“Don’t move,” Tenpou commanded, although perhaps it came out less like a command and more like a plea. “Do _not_ stop.”

The time it took him to fetch the lube from his – their – room was hardly any time at all, and he’d never been so grateful for the deficit of books strewn across the floor in his life. The last thing he would have wanted would have been to turn an ankle in his haste, and likely at this point Kenren would have killed him for making him stop to administer first aid.

“Come on, come on, _fuck_ ,” Kenren was muttering upon Tenpou’s return, and Tenpou grinned shakily as he fumbled his trousers open, eased out his aching erection and applied a quick, generous amount of lube to it.

“You forgot the Sir,” he suggested, and in an obviously strategic response Kenren groaned and shoved three fingers in deep enough he was arching all the way through his spine.

“Fuck," he gasped back, "the Sir.” 

Tenpou almost had to laugh at that. They probably would, later.

"Not today, soldier," Tenpou managed.

There was nothing slow or gentle about the way he dragged Kenren’s hand away and pushed inside him instead, no pause to adjust or savour, just a mutually agreed, controlled charge with no quarter given, Tenpou thrusting so hard the couch was shifting in small increments with each shove and Kenren’s breath was grunting out on little, helpless sounds of pleasure that he’d never made before and only drove Tenpou to fuck him harder.

It couldn't last; Tenpou didn't want it to. That would come later with slow, lingering kisses and skin against skin and the warmth of Kenren's body and all its comfortable angles in his bed. Now it was nothing short of possession and being possessed and as Tenpou's orgasam raced ahead of him, sweeping the field, he wasn't actually entirely sure who possessed whom. Kenren was thrusting in counterpoint so roughly that Tenpou was forced to lean over him and grab the back of the couch, his grip over Kenren's, nothing gentle about that either, and it would make Tenpou wonder for days after just how Kenren managed to contort himself in that position but suddenly Tenpou was being kissed, licked at, Kenren's hot breath panting across his cheek and chin and mouth. Tenpou didn't so much as thrust as roll then, needed to keep that contact, perhaps more desired than any gift of Kenren's body or the demand of his hunger. It was like finally coming home, being where he belonged.

The angle must have been what Kenren needed because he made a deep, insensible noise that Tenpou recognised and shuddered underneath him, and Tenpou looked down to see his semen splashing against the black leather of the couch. The sight was both as indecent and as incendiary as Tenpou had imagined, anticipation of desire realised in a starkly physical moment that seemed to assail his defenses and rout the final vestiges of his control. He gasped in a breath, closed his eyes and surrendered, clinging to Kenren as his own release, glorious and dizzying and infinitely gratifying, swept over him.

The trembling of his knees in the aftermath some moments later saw him disengaging clumsily and tipping himself over onto the couch, well clear of the evidence of Kenren's pleasure. Kenren made another throaty noise and tipped in the other direction, and for a long while the two of them just sat there at opposite ends of the couch, slouched and trying to catch their breath. 

"Merciful Gods," Tenpou breathed eventually, staring blearily at the ceiling. His skin felt hot all over, his clothes were damp with sweat and his muscles singing with the cessation of effort. At the other end of the couch, Kenren laughed hoarsely.

"Well, that was a hell of a welcome home." He sounded both exhausted and happy.

"I take it," Tenpou suggested dryly, "that you missed me?"

"No," Kenren drawled, in such a way that indicated the opposite. "You missed me though."

Tenpou laughed at that. "I did indeed," he admitted. "Tell me again why I let you talk me into going?"

"Because the Celestial Administration hates me and the feeling is mutual? Besides, I'm not the one who's in charge here."

Tenpou thought that what they had just done could probably argue for otherwise, but in the end arguing, particularly with Kenren, was far more trouble than it was worth. It was how he'd ended up at the summit in the first place.

"Well," he began, rolling his head against the back of the couch to look at Kenren who appeared to be molded to the leather, his nakedness, the long, lean lines of his body and the inviting sprawl of his limbs something that Tenpou thought he could look at for some time. However, he knew from experience those limbs felt even better than they looked and he was of a mind to have them wrapped around him in bed for at least the next several hours. "If my authority is still being recognised, I think I'd very much like a cup of tea, a bath, and bed, in that order. The only thing I'm wondering is whether I need to make it an order."

Kenren rolled his head in Tenpou's direction and gave him a crooked grin. "Depends. What do I get out of it?"

"Oh," Tenpou dissembled. "My extremely good favor, for a start."

Kenren blinked. "What? That wasn't it just then?"

Tenpou attempted a smirk, but he rather thought his affection softened it far too much to make a decent go of it.

"Not even close."

"Well, then," Kenren sighed theatrically, and Tenpou watched as he rolled himself up off the couch to his feet and then walked naked over to where Tenpou reclined. Then he leaned over, braced a hand on the back of the couch next to Tenpou's head and kissed him, soft and tender. Tenpou sighed against his mouth and he'd been wrong before; this was what coming home felt like.

"Guess I better get right on those orders then, Sir," Kenren murmured, somehow making the _Sir_ sound more like _Dear_ , this time. He kissed Tenpou again, briefly and then, smiling, straightened up and stepped past him and around the end of the couch. Tenpou tracked him until he couldn't turn his head any further without possibly damaging a vertebrae or two, although the sight of Kenren walking around their apartments, in no way concerned about or even conscious of his nudity, might have made it worth it.

"I believe I'd like those orders carried out as you are, soldier," Tenpou called after him, and heard a bark of laughter in response.

"Fine, Sir," Kenren called back. "But you still have to vouch the stain-resistance of the new couch. You'll find a cloth in the hall cupboard. Soap and water and then a dry rag. No chemicals."

"Yes, yes," Tenpou sighed and then pushed himself wearily to his feet to do as he was told.


End file.
